


Time For us, Somewhere

by Lijuetta



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fix-It, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), sort of, wooden dildo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-13
Updated: 2014-06-13
Packaged: 2018-02-04 13:04:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1780126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lijuetta/pseuds/Lijuetta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"“You ever think about before? The other world?” Dean murmurs. The other world where Sam is, and where there are demons, and angels, and monsters and ghosts.<br/>Castiel turns onto his side, facing Dean. “Constantly.” "</p><p>*When I wasn't okay after reading 'a place for us' by 8sword and fixed it for myself in the comments and then there was a mighty need*<br/>Gift for 8sword</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time For us, Somewhere

**Author's Note:**

  * For [8sword](https://archiveofourown.org/users/8sword/gifts).



> 8sword writes beautiful AUs. Really, really beautiful. So beautiful, but at the same time so so sad... after "a place for us" I had the mighty need to write something happy.
> 
> Dear 8sword, I hope you like it! *silently angsting that you don't*
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own any of this. I don't even own the 'verse. 
> 
> This work is currently un-beta-ed. My native language isn't english. I will probably edit it at one point, but until then, it has to remain in that sorry state, I hope, I didn't butcher it too much... Anyone interested in fixing this? This is also my first published fic on AO3...

It's the last day before summer holidays, and the kindergarteners are buzzing with excitement - at least those who will leave the kindergarten to go to school coming fall. They've been eyeing the little cabinet of Mr. Novak for the last four weeks, the cabinet, where the little wooden figurines are displayed. Little bears, ducks, cats and horses and dogs, and even a turtle the size of an oreo, once little wooden blocks the kids had chosen, made into figurines by Mr. Winchester, and then sanded and painted by the kids in crafts. Every child had its own little figurine and today the kids leaving the kindergarten for good would be allowed to take them home and show them to their parents. 

Castiel had started the tradition when Dean, frustrated over his job as a desk-monkey (“Something’s gotta pay the bills, and I’m not half bad at it, it seems.” Dean sighed at least once a week) and appalled by the lack of "good old toys" in Emma's bedroom ( _“No kid of mine is playing with stupid a--…” - “DEAN! Not in front of Emma!” - “Fine, but those stupid pink glitter horses have to go. Now. Before I get glitter-herpes or something…” - “Mr. Cas, what’s herpes?”_ ), had taken up whittling as a hobby. The first toys had looked like misshapen clumps of wood from a murder site and cost Dean a lot sweat and blood (less sweat, more blood), and in the end, he managed to produce and least one toy per week, the carvings becoming more intricate the more he practiced. But as Emma grew older she had no need any more for the wooden toys. She loved her army of horses and regularly decorated her windowsill with them, but the days where she had sat in the garden with Claire and played with them were long gone. The corner of Castiel's mouth twitches, remembering the snorts and whinnies they would hear from the garden, Dean smiling warmly while making pasta and watching the girls through the kitchen window. 

Now Castiel lets the kids who would have their last year in kindergarten choose a wooden block and an animal in the fall, and Dean would sit on the porch or in the garage in the evenings and coax the wood into tiny animals. Castiel loves the smell of the dry wood on Dean's hands when Dean joins him in the bedroom little later. The woodchips in his bed that would sting his naked butt at 3 in the morning not so much...

“Mr. Novak, Mr. Novak, when will we get our animals?” Lou Ann Wortham, a freckled sunshine with wildly curled brown hair tugs on his sleeve. Suddenly, the whole room is quiet and staring at Castiel and Lou Ann with big, round eyes. Castiel crouches down to her level.  
“Remember what we spoke about yesterday, when we made the cookies?”  
Lou Ann scrunches up her pretty little nose. “Our parents come at noon and then we eat the cookies and we sing songs, and then we will get our animals,” she repeats dutifully.  
Castiel addresses the whole room. “And when is noon?”  
“12 o’clock!” Dimas shouts.  
Castiel raises his left eyebrow. “Dimas, what do you do when you know an answer?”  
Dimas reddens and mumbles something that sounds like “I wait for my turn.”, but Castiel acknowledges him with a gentle smile and points to the clock. “Is it noon yet?” Some of the older kindergarteners, including Lou Ann and Dimas, shake their head. “So, can anyone tell me what time it is now? Dimas perhaps?”  
Dimas puffs up his little chest. “It is a quarter to twelve!” the chubby boy announces and puffs up even more when Castiel nods in agreement.  
“So, your parents will be here soon. We will tidy up the room now and then get the cookies from the kitchen.” He hasn’t finished the sentence when the kindergarteners already scramble to put away their toys.

It is late afternoon when Castiel arrives home. Home, that's with Dean and Emma now. When the summoning didn't work after the third try they put all the ingredients in the trash and went to IKEA the next morning to buy a carpet to cover up the scratches in the parquet. Emma liked the new carpet. It was a little fluffy, and rather colorful (Castiel had insisted on something with colors, saying that Emma would like it more than the white one, and it was easier to clean anyways). After that, they had started to find out more about Castiel Novak, kindergarten teacher, and found a cramped condo leased in his name, and a rather sensible, but small car. 

Dean had given it a long look before finally looking at Castiel. "I'd rather be dead than be seen driving this car, but at least it fits you." He grimaced as he looked over to his own and probably told himself the fortieth time in 7 days that at least Emma was more secure in this nightmare of a car than in his baby.  
As the lease for the condo was almost up, they had hired a U-haul truck, put all of Castiel’s belongings in and moved him into a guest bedroom in their little townhouse. That had been almost three years ago.

Dean is standing on the porch when Castiel locks his car. 

“Hiya, Cas. Sad to see the little ankle-biters go?” He smiles and his eyes crinkle. “Give me your bag, I’ll put it away.” He takes the leather satchel from Castiel’s hands and ushers him through the front door.

“They are children, not little yapping dogs, and I’m quite sure I will see at least half of them again in the volleyball team next fall.” Castiel gives Dean a condenscending look. “I already chose two for my team, you wont get them this time,” he growls while popping open the top button of his shirt.

Dean laughs as he walks into the kitchen, leaving Castiel in the hallway. “That I’d like to see. We will wipe the floor with you. Again!” he cackles and flips the burgers that sizzle away on the grill. “Take a seat, grub’s almost done.” 

Castiel fishes two beers from the fridge and pops them open with a little flick of his wrist. “Emma already at Claire’s?” 

“Yeah, Amelia came by two hours ago. Said they wanted to go shopping with the girls before they go to the volleyball camp an Monday. They said, no, squeed something about girl’s night and Princess Bride. I almost grew a vagina…” Dean shudders. Castiel lightly swats the back of his head. 

“Dean, Emma wants to do some girly things once in a while.”

“Yeah, but she’s my Batgirl, my little supergirl,” Dean whines. “She don’t need no princesses.”

“And secondly – you won’t grow female genitalia, and that’s a quarter for the Potty Mouth Pot.” He rattles the tin that stands on the kitchen counter. Most quarters are from Dean, though Emma, and sometimes Claire, have contributed their fair share.

Dean turns around and leers at Castiel. “You like my potty mouth,” he drawls and hooks his greasy fingers into Castiel’s belt loops to pull him in.

“How can you be so sure?” Castiel murmurs against Dean’s lips. Dean smells like beer and grease and fresh sweat. 

“Well, I think you gasping my name last night when I sucked you off would be a major clue.” He nips at Castiel’s lips. “I have a present for you. Later.” He pulls Castiel against him and kisses him deeply for a few seconds. Castiel sighs as he licks into Dean’s mouth and tastes the bitter tang of beer.

“Hmm, enough now,” Dean shoves him away. “Food’s done. Get this fine ass to the table.” 

“Potty Mouth Pot!” Castiel laughs and sits down while Dean serves the burgers.

 

~*~

 

"You said you had a gift for me?" Castiel asks Dean while putting away the last dishes. Dean sneaks his hand around Castiel and nuzzles his neck.

"Figures you would remember this," Dean murmurs against the sensitive skin. Castiel shudders as googsebumps appear in his arms. "What do you say, I get your present, you make yourself pretty and we meet in the bedroom?" 

Castiel turns in Dean's arms and rubs himself against Dean. He can feel the delicious hardness of Dean through the thin linen slacks. He gives Dean a searing kiss. “Don’t take too long.” He grins and saunters out of the kitchen.

The first time Dean had kissed him was in the kitchen when he had washed the dishes. They had kissed a lot that evening, only kissed, and Castiel’s lips had been raw and dry the next morning. But it didn’t really matter. Dean had needed him, had needed the contact, and Castiel had given it to him more than willingly. The next time, they had explored each other. Castiel now knew that his butt cheeks were ticklish, and Dean made funny noises when Castiel touched the soles of his feet. Few days later, the hands had been replaced by mouths, and Castiel had tasted salt and silky skin and had decided that it was the best he ever tasted.  
They had slept together the first time two months after their first kiss. Emma was at Claire’s (Dean had been mortified when Emma had asked who won the wrestling match the night before. All sexual activities had been strictly PG-13 from then on) and Dean had shown him what a “classic date” was. Castiel liked the classic date a lot. Especially when Dean had tried to suck Castiel’s brain out through his dick while having two lubed up fingers up his ass.  
Dean’s reservation about having sex when Emma was there had been quickly dispatched when they had bought a bigger bed that also didn’t have a squeaky bedframe. Now they only had to muffle their moans. Unless Emma was away. Like tonight.

Castiel brushes his teeth and washes his face, and then goes to the bedroom to undress. He meticulously folds his slacks and puts them on the hanger. The first time he had just carelessly thrown his linen slacks into the corner – and almost had an aneurism trying to get the creases out of the linen the next morning. The rest of his clothes goes into the hamper. While he shuts the blinds of the window (he doesn’t suspect old Mrs. Miller to spy unto them from across the street, but better be safe than sorry) he hears Dean thumping up the stairs and going into the bathroom. Castiel checks the drawers of the nightstand – the lube is still half full, and there are enough tissues to last two months. 

Everything’s set. He flicks of the big light on the ceiling so only the warm glow of the lamp on the bedside table illuminates the room. For a moment Castiel is a little nervous – not a bad nervous. Tingly. Fluttery. He stands there, naked, in the middle of the room, and listens to the squeak of the faucet in the other room. Doors clap, and then Dean is there, with a long, slim package in his hand. He smiles at Castiel, almost shy, and holds up the package. 

“I made this for you.”

Castiel takes it and Dean averts his eyes. The package is not very heavy, though there definitely is a hard object in it. “Open it, Cas. Please.”

He opens the cardboard box, and in it is – an even slimmer wooden box, beautifully carved. Castiel looks at Dean. A beautiful box like this certainly has its uses, though Castiel can’t think of any at the moment. “Thank you. It’s a very beautiful … box.” he tries and smiles carefully.

Dean huffs a little laugh. “The gift is in the box. Though the box belongs to the gift.” He takes the cardboard box from Castiel and throws it in the general vicinity of the trashcan. 

 

Castial finds a little brazen latch and opens the wooden box. In it lies a longish, round object, made out of… cherry wood? The reddish wood is lacquered and gleams in the soft light. Castiel takes it out of the box. “Is this a wooden dildo?” Of course it’s a dildo. Now that he holds it in his hand Castiel can see the carvings on the 9 inch long wood, imitating veins and the head of a cock. Dean grins wider. 

“Yeah. I couldn’t sleep one night and found a German website promoting handmade wooden dildos and thought, well, I’m not too shabby with a knife…” He shrugs, still with that boyish grin Castiel finds utterly adorable. He laughs at Dean.

“Do I have to fear getting a splinter up my ass?” He touches the smooth wood and feels the ridges of the carvings, also perfectly smooth.

Dean smiles and takes a step forward until he is nose to nose with Castiel. He takes the dildo out of his hand and starts to touch Castiel’s lower back with it. “No splinters. Well, at least as long you don’t use it as a chew toy.” 

Castiel sputters, and Dean chuckles deeply and slips the dildo between Castiel’s butt cheeks. The sputters turn to gasps, and then to moans…

 

~*~

 

The air is heavy with the smell of sex, sweat and come. Castiel and Dean lay side by side on the bed, close enough to feel the warmth of the other without touching, sweat drying on their skin. Castiel feels thoroughly satisfied and sleepy. 

“You ever think about before? The other world?” Dean murmurs. The other world where Sam is, and where there are demons, and angels, and monsters and ghosts.

Castiel turns onto his side, facing Dean. “Constantly.” He says, gripping Dean’s hand. “Every day I think about how it would be if I woke up one morning and we would be back.” Dean looks at him.

“Yeah. Me too. And I wonder if I still would want that. I mean, I hate my job at that firm. But I have Emma. And you. And you are safe, and happy, and Emma is safe, and has a chance of living a full life, without killer mommies and slaughtering men…” He swallows audibly. “I miss Sam like a missing limb. If I could wish for one thing it would be Sam. He deserves a good life.” Castiel looks at Dean who is angrily swiping at his eyes. 

“I miss him too. But I think I would miss this even more. Perhaps there is a way for Sam to come here. I won’t give up hope. But I also don’t want to give you up.” He squeezes Dean’s hand. “I am happy here.”

Dean smiles a watery smile at that. “Yeah, me too.”

 

~*~

 

When Emma comes back from her weekend with Claire she bubbles over with joy and laughter and presents a new summer dress (green) that she bought with Amelia, and shows them the hair clasp (also green, with little daisies) that Claire made for her, and Castiel and Dean manage to make just the right compliments and take her to the park and eat ice cream, and maybe they found their white picket fence after all.

**Author's Note:**

> There is actually a little family business in Germany that produces wooden dildos (all hand made) and sells them. http://www.waldmichlsholdi.de/
> 
> I always wanted one of them, but they are rather pricey...


End file.
